


a better fate than wisdom

by armillarysphere



Category: Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:31:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armillarysphere/pseuds/armillarysphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of them, however, ever kissed him like Ryan kisses him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a better fate than wisdom

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, I just felt like writing some kissing... ^^ Title borrowed from e.e. cummings

Despite appearances and whatever general awkwardness that is his existence, Michael has kissed enough people in his lifetime to be able to call it 'a fair few'. None of them, however, ever kissed him like Ryan kisses him. Michael's pretty sure that Ryan's mouth? Was created just for kissing Mike, that's how perfect it is. And he's so, so far past caring how dorky that sounds as it passes through his head one time when Ryan is sucking on his bottom lip and nibbling at just the right spot to have Michael's knees buckling (not completely, of course, but enough that his dick is twenty percent harder than it was ten seconds ago and it was already pretty fucking hard).

The thing that gets him is that he _put off_ kissing Ryan for so fucking long, and so now he's completely justified in making up for lost time, right? When this friendship turned into something-more-than-friendship, there was no kissing, no nuzzling of jawlines, no thumbs brushed over wet, swollen bottom lips at four in the morning when one of you has woken up horny for no apparent reason. No, there were just hands in pants and blow jobs in hotel rooms and, Jesus fuck, membership to the fucking Mile High Club (it's currently the sole entry on the very short list of Things Michael Phelps Regrets In Life).

Now, though, now Mike can't get enough of Ryan Lochte's fucking mouth. He catches himself staring at it when Ryan's talking to him, spouting off whatever random shit has taken his fancy this week, following the curves of Ryan's lips as he forms the words, and runs his tongue over them before each new sentence. Or when he's just out of the pool, water trickling down his face, catching at the corners of his mouth, glistening in the bow of his top lip. The first time Mike kissed him was after a meet, pressing Ryan hard up against the wall in the locker room and all but devouring him. The stunned look on Ryan's face had made it even more worth it, quite apart from the spectacular blow job he'd given Michael in a bathroom stall a half hour later. The rest of the night Michael had had to stop himself from bringing his hand up to touch his lips every time he thought about it, or saw the fading damp patches on Ryan's knees.


End file.
